Author's notes: Just letting you all know; the story is based around the fact that everyone had their first born children about a year after graduating Hogwarts in their 8th year (seeing as they went back to complete it… Like Hermione would let Harry and Ron NOT finish school.). So the start of this story is very much when Hermione is about 31 years old. So… yeah, okay enjoy!

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was running late. So very late. She was sure that she was going to get a massive "lecture" about her tardiness, as well as the usual backhanded compliment about her appearance. She had a quick glance over herself in the mirror near the fireplace and decided that what she had was as best as it could get. Tying her hair up in a messy bun, she made her way into the fireplace and clearly said out loud, "Malfoy Industries" before throwing Floo powder down.

Why in the world am I wearing heels, she scolded herself as she struggled out of the fireplace and into her office. Conjuring a pot of tea and two cups, she set them down, collected the necessary parchments she had left the night before, cast a "Wingardium Leviosa" at the tea set and ordered them to follower her brisk pace to another office. She didn't wait to knock, opening the door with a free hand to reveal a familiar blond man inside who was currently just stepping out of his own fireplace.

The tea set made its way to the desk as Draco Malfoy set his coat on the coat hanger next to his desk. He had not acknowledged Hermione yet, but she knew he was bound to say something. She shuffled on the spot as she watched him sit at his desk, pick up one of the teacups and take a languid sip from it. A moment later, his deep voice broke the silence.

"You're late."

She scowled. "It's still only five minutes to."

He still hadn't made eye contact with her, seemingly more concerned about what was going on in the Daily Prophet. "Which is ten minutes later than usual."

Rolling her eyes, she made her way over to the guest chair and set the parchments onto the desk, disregarding all the other paperwork that was underneath. She picked up the second cup of tea and took a small sip— still too hot.

"Rose kept me up last night."

At this, Draco finally looked up, left eyebrow raised in interest. "Oh? And how is she fairing in her third year at Hogwarts? Scorpius can't seem to stop talking about how frustrated he is with being beaten again at Potions by your little Rose." He almost sounded amused, but of course, his voice was his usual drawl.

Hermione sighed. "Those two, honestly… She's doing fine, although she's not taking the divorce really well. I guess we should have told her when she was home for the holidays, but back then we were still very undecided—"

"Spare me the details," Draco interjected as he waved his hand dismissively, looking back to the paper. Hermione huffed, but decided not to argue for the moment. It was still too early and her head wasn't in the right place yet.

After graduating from Hogwarts in their eighth year, Hermione had several choices; she could have followed Ron and Harry's footsteps and became an Auror, worked for the Ministry (Merlin only knew how many times they had begged), or taken up the teaching position McGonagall had offered her. For a time she was teaching Charms at Hogwarts, but not long after she became pregnant with Rose, so she had to retire temporarily through the pregnancy.

When Rose was born, Ron was eager to make a second child. While Hermione thought it was sweet, she had to make a stand. She wanted a career. She wanted to be independent. She didn't want to be cooped up in the house all day to look after five or more children. And she had told Ron exactly that.

To say that Ron was not pleased would be an understatement. He had given excuses like, "We need to start a big family! It's the Weasley Tradition!" and, "This is us rebuilding the World! Starting the future of Wizarding-kind on a positive note!". And while Hermione thought it was an appealing ideal, it just wasn't one that she was comfortable with. Unfortunately for her, the Charms teacher that had 'temporarily' replaced her while she was pregnant had wanted to keep the job, and it would still be a while before Hermione could return to Hogwarts full time. It wouldn't be fair to McGonagall to have her wait on Hermione.

So for a few months, Hermione was stuck at home with Rose, which suited Ron just fine. His ideas were very traditional, and Hermione began to resent them. She supposed that was the beginning of the end for them; clearly their priorities weren't the same anymore. She would shrug away from his touch at night and go days without speaking to him. She soon realized that the only thing holding them together was Rose, and as the years went on, she came to accept that it wasn't enough anymore.

When Rose began going to Hogwarts, Hermione was left with nothing to do anymore. She would wrack her brilliant brain for hours on end; visiting libraries to re-read books, go to museums, visit family and friends, went for long jogs… The list went on.

It seemed as though the only person who understood her restlessness was none other than Ginny Weasley. One day, she had come to Hermione's house at lunch with a piece of paper in her hands, looking excited. Hermione would have never have guessed in a million years that what Ginny was holding was a job ad for a position at Malfoy Industries, which was well known for creating and distributing the best potions in the world.

"Ginny, are you insane? If I set one foot into that building, I'd probably be hexed in twenty different ways."

The red-headed woman rolled her eyes as she stuffed the piece of paper into Hermione's hand. "You know that Malfoy's gotten over his blood prejudices now that his father's died. He's always in Witch Weekly, photographed with all sorts of women; Pureblood, Half blood and Muggle-born. Besides, I heard he pays loads! And why wouldn't he hire you? You're brilliant at Potions."

And that was how she was convinced (sort of) to apply for the job. She hadn't even needed to go to an interview; as soon as she sent an application in, an owl dropped off a letter into her kitchen that stated that she had gotten the job. In fact, it wasn't even the job she'd applied for (she had originally applied for a position in the research department), but Draco Malfoy's very own Personal Assistant. She glared at the letter as she thought, Of course he would. Probably fired his current assistant, too… 'Keep your enemies close' is probably what he's thinking…

She was grateful that she had the job; not only did it mean that she was constantly challenged with over-seeing quite a few factions in the company which kept her mentally stimulated, but the pay was incredible. There were only two downfalls of the job.

Working as Draco Malfoy's personal assistant also meant putting up with his annoying habit of picking on her.

And Ron's disregard of her own wants and needs.

He had been completely and utterly against it, clearly still not over their petty fights with Malfoy back in school. "What is he playing at?!" Ron had said once he found out, stomping into the living room. Hermione sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

"Look Ron, this has nothing to do with Malfoy—"

"It has everything to do with that ferret!"

"I need to work, Ron! I can't be cooped up in a house all day long—!"

"You go out, don't you? What's the difference—"

By then, Hermione had left the room, refusing to let her tears fall. It was two years after that they (meaning Hermione) had decided to call it quits. Hermione had left the house to Ron, feeling guilty that it had been her decision to split from him, and picked an apartment in Muggle London. She was quite happy in her own space, and now that Rose was at school, there was no need for Hermione to be cooped up at home.

She made weekly visits to the Potter residence; of course, keeping in mind that Ron may or may not be there too. She made sure that Ginny warned her beforehand. Surprisingly, Ginny and Harry were quite understanding when it came down to the divorce, encouraging her to take as much time and space away from him as she needed. They were obviously sad that they couple had split, but after years of public spats and prolonged silences that spanned over weeks, they had come to terms with what was best.

The only thing that Ginny and her husband didn't agree on was Hermione working for Malfoy. Harry had begged her to come work as an Auror, but Ginny had been very insistent on Hermione staying exactly where she was. "You won't be getting paid as much as you are if you go work in the Auror department. Besides, you can handle Malfoy, right?" Ginny had said earnestly during one of their weekend lunches.

Harry looked at a loss as he gazed at his wife. "But its still Malfoy. That git probably gets Hermione to do all the work he's supposed to be doing—"

"I certainly do not let him trample all over me like that, Harry," Hermione replied indignantly. "He can be a lazy prat sometimes but I keep him in line. Besides, that's part of the job, I suppose. And he's far from stupid; he clearly knows how to run a business—"

"Not to mention he's always been amazingly handsome—"

"Ginny!"

"What? It's the truth! You don't hear Hermione complaining about it," Ginny gave Hermione an innocent smile.

Hermione blushed furiously but decided not to reply. She would have to blind not to have noticed how attractive Malfoy was. Certainly, back at Hogwarts, he was a rather good-looking boy but his thin frame only seemed to pronounce his pointy face back then. Not to mention, his attitude made him far less attractive.

But now that they were all older, he had grown into his features; he still had a relatively pointy face, but his jaw was chiseled and his frame was far less gangly. He retained his aristocratic demeanor, but it changed from looking like he was gazing at others with disdain to a cool glare. Clearly years of playing Quidditch had done well for his physique; he was lean, but not too lean. He was at least a head and half taller than Hermione, although she was quite the petite witch. He clearly was his father's son, but bits of Narcissa's graceful features had settled into his.

And when he wasn't being the enormous prick he was, he could be quite charming. Not that Hermione had ever been the recipient of those charms; he more or less still picked fights with her, but instead of making hateful jabs, it stemmed from familiarity.

He had looked up from the Daily Prophet and was now looking at the paper work she had put on his desk. "So I take it these are the reports?" he said, almost sounding bored.

She sighed. "Yes, the ones from last week. We also have a new offer from a company that wants us to develop a potion to help with short-term memory loss."

"How much are they offering?"

"Apparently slightly less than the company standard, but I think—"

"Then get them to go elsewhere."

Hermione shot a look at him. "Malfoy, I really think this could be a good investment. Elderly wizards—"

"Are not my concern. My business is."

He could be such an ass sometimes. "Just meet with them. I think they're really onto something."

He considered her for a moment. "You meet with them."

"What? But—"

"I'm far too busy—"

"With what? Your newest fling?"

Malfoy looked at her questioningly, and then presented her with his trademark smirk. "Why Granger, I didn't know you cared."

She blushed, covering it up by feigning a cough. "I don't. I'm just pointing out that your priorities are—"

"Right where they should be," he finished for her, suddenly getting up from his seat. "I have a meeting with at the Ministry regarding my on-going hearing."

Hermione had completely forgotten about that. Ever since the war, the Ministry had placed the Malfoys under house arrest until the elder Malfoys had passed away, leaving Malfoy-junior with the responsibilities. The only reason why he had escaped going to Azkaban was simply because of Harry Potter's testimony, but apparently it hadn't been enough for the Wizenmgot. The trial had been going on for so long, it was ridiculous.

"So they're finally making a decision?"

He shrugged. "Something of the sort. They want me to testify for myself as to why I think I deserve to stay away from Azkaban. Provide evidence, all that shit. All a bunch of idiots, if you ask me. It as if nothing I've done for the Wizarding community for the past 10 years means nothing."

"When's the trial?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"And why haven't you told me about this?"

"I'm not obligated to tell you, am I?"

She huffed. Of course he wasn't. But it would be nice to be told that she would be working on her own tomorrow. He took her silence as an answer and dismissed her. As she made her way to leave the office, she noted the flask he had taken out of his breast pocket.